


Just the Droid You're Looking For

by MellytheHun



Series: First Kiss Challenges [1]
Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Accidental Emotional Investments, Angst, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, First Kiss, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Making Up, Misunderstandings, Prompt Challenge, Prompt Fill, that should be the tag for this entire ship tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-12
Updated: 2017-06-12
Packaged: 2018-11-03 21:19:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10975545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MellytheHun/pseuds/MellytheHun
Summary: First Kiss Prompt: raking a hand through the hair and getting a good handful to pull the other closer (before or during the kiss)





	Just the Droid You're Looking For

When a person dies, several changes overtake the body, but the most prominent among them – to most witnesses of death – is the light leaving one’s eyes. The person’s eyes physically change, visibly, right before the onlooker and with a ghosting sigh, the person is gone. Their eyes are void.

When a person dissociates, their eyes can shift in so many different ways – lights in them can change, it can seem like memories are being projected on the backs of their eyes like a great holoscreen – a movie only they can see. They are there, physically, but still somehow far away, removed.

When a person panics, eyes dilate, sweep environments faster and occasionally it appears as if the eyes of the person are shaking or trembling. The look of terror in a person’s eyes is highly recognizable. Animal.

Acceptance, dismissal, rage, hunger, arousal – even the unfocused glaze of those no longer paying attention to their surroundings – these all show in the eyes, present in different and new ways. There is some universal theme, though – death, dissociation, panic, rage, hunger, daydreaming – they are all very similar across humans, across worlds and galaxies.

There is a particular look, though – one that Kylo has seen before – that has never before effected him like it does now. He’s seen it in multiple people on multiple occasions, he’s _caused_ the look before and he’s clearly caused it _now_ , but this is different because this look shouldn’t happen. He didn’t intend for it to – he didn’t even know it was possible.

Sometimes, when someone survives some immense tragedy, holding onto hope of something – that their treasured holophoto was somehow scavenged from the fire that took down their home, that their closest friend managed to escape enemy attack, that their pet’s prognosis is much better now or that their spouse is displaced by the tsunami but not forever lost to them – that hope is visible.

When that woman is crying, not at all concerned with her material belongings, but the holophotos that serve as the only reminder of a most beloved ancestor, when that soldier is turning around wildly, wide-eyed, looking for some sign of familiar life, when that child is looking into the vet’s eyes, holding their animal close and when that spouse looks up.

When that spouse looks up, covered in dirt, grime, cuts, bruises so dark they’re nearly black – wrapped in bandages and tattered clothes, their elbows on their knees as they sit and wait for some news that their partner is in a hospital bed not far away, found a little worse for wear, but on their way to wellness…

Only to learn the holophotos were turned to ash, only to find their friend lying dead by a trench, only to hear the pet is in enormous pain and what is most merciful is to kill it and then, when that spouse looks up.

When that widower looks up.

When that widower who is sitting with their knees up, head in their hands – when that widower looks up and doesn’t know yet that they will never be with their partner again – the hope is fragile, it’s partially masked by a half-hearted disguise of ‘I can withstand whatever you’re about to tell me,’ which anyone looking at them can tell is a lie. Then, when they learn they’re alone in this galaxy – alone as they entered it and alone again as they will leave it, ripped away, torn apart from what other half of their own hearts they’d found out in the big, bad world…

There’s a break in the eyes.

Something cracks, spreads like a web, shatters, but there aren’t tears, there aren’t theatrics – there is a sinking like quicksand, like having the air punched out of one’s chest, like they had hoped the apathetic chaos of the universe wouldn’t find them under the cozy fort they’d built by hand and it’s all come crashing down. It’s all lost in one fell swoop and the eyes – the eyes communicate what no poem, song or wail of agony ever could.

There have been plenty of times in Kylo’s life that he’s very purposefully and very gladly elicited _that_ look.

He didn’t mean to this time, though.

When he’s not meant to elicit that reaction and when he’s not expecting it, it would seem that look in the eyes of another is possibly the most disarming, distressing expression a human face can make.

He’s _been_ with Hux before – indelicately. He and Hux found some themselves in some unspoken arrangement maybe a standard year back; an arrangement that fulfilled both their needs. It gave Kylo an outlet for frustration and a time for his mind to wipe itself clean, leave room for only pleasure – and for Hux, it gave him control. Or at least a sense of it.

There was no tenderness, though, no romance or softly whispered nothing’s – not until more recently, anyway. Hux had quite recently developed a habit of lingering in Kylo’s quarters post-coitus; washing up with Kylo in the shower, letting his hands wander a bit aimlessly at exposed skin with no intent but to touch for the sake of touching, muttering ‘sleep well,’ before drifting off in Kylo’s bed, just standing nearer during the work day, talking longer to keep his company…

It confused Kylo, of course and he’d have asked about it and in a way, he meant to, but that’s not what came out.

Rather, he was under the spray of hot water, with Hux standing closer than he does with anyone else, their eyes connected, something determined, focused and thoughtful in Hux’s and Kylo had thought about how raw they looked. How… _convincing_.

He didn’t think it was a bad or wrong thought to have, he even thought…

Well, what he thought doesn’t really matter.

What he asked was, “Hux?”

“Mm?”

“You’re… are you a droid?”

He’d asked the question with the tone of someone already sure they shouldn’t have to ask the question at all. He’d been rather sure his suspicions and observational skills would even impress Hux.

But that’s when it happened – it happened right then, in the sudden quiet of the ‘fresher – the breaking in the eyes, the quicksand, the gut-punch, air-sucked-out, lost holophoto, fallen comrade, dying pet – the Widower’s Stare.

Hux’s silver-blue eyes flashed up to his, a devastated focal point, his mouth parted on some poem or song or wail that could not equate to the look in his eyes. He paled – Kylo hadn’t even noticed the handsome blush Hux was donning until it was suddenly wiped away and then he was opening the sliding glass door and all but running out of the room.

In an instinctive panic, Kylo followed him, asking him to, “wait,” and calling his name, but Hux, dripping wet, was carelessly throwing on sleep clothes he kept in Kylo’s room (“for convenience,” Hux had said at the time, but Kylo felt the territorial nature of it – like planting a flag on some battlefield) – Hux was not looking at him and did not seem to have any intention of doing so soon.

“Hux, I only asked –“

“Because you think I have _no soul_!?”

Kylo had never heard Hux’s voice quiver and he’d never really heard Hux’s voice at that octave before either. He’d heard Hux shout, of course, but never at him and never in a way so highly, innately personal.

Hux’s cotton shirt was sticking to his wet chest, his cotton pants hanging low around his tapered waist, water droplets still sliding down his calves, over his ankles and onto the dark, hard floor. He was gathering his other belongings – his holopad, comm, articles to an extra uniform he kept tucked away there – they were all bundled in his tightening arms and the look in his eyes was one of betrayal.

Struck, Kylo was unsure what to do or say.

“You thought I was _a droid_?!” Hux shouted – not in anger, but in genuine, visible pain, “You thought I was some mechanical, lifeless, _soulless **computer**_!? This _entire time_!?”

In a fantastic display of eloquence, Kylo’s mouth opens and shuts three times and all he manages is cross between a cough and grunt.

Were his thoughts so unfounded? Hux was, at all times, clinical and emotionally removed – seeming above it all. Kylo had heard of Hux’s father, the Commandant (an engineer as well), but never of Hux’s mother and there had never been evidence of any other biological ties to anyone. Hux, while at work, creates code as simply and casually as breathing – as if he thinks in it, his posture is always perfect – as if he’s held together by bolts and wires, he’s alarmingly efficient in every aspect of his life – even the sex they’d been having seemed fine tuned and shaped into an art form.

Hux’s focus was unbreakable, his shots were consistently, perfectly expert, his record hadn’t a single smear or black spot, he never stumbles, never trips, never stutters, never has a hair out of place – it made sense, to Kylo.

It made sense that Hux might be a droid, but then he asked and Hux _broke_ – broke the visible, _human_ , way, the way that’s terrible to watch unfold.

“You’re a real piece of work, Ren. Truly.”

Gaping uselessly again, Kylo gestured vaguely and uncertainly, completely caught off guard by Hux’s… highly emotional response.

Kylo had often fancied himself an Empath, but he thought better of that now. Didn’t seem it held up against the light.

When Hux turned to leave, Kylo called after him, but Hux ignored him, storming out and blocking Kylo’s comm channel. All messages Kylo sent to Hux’s holopad went unopened and returned to sender – he changed his entire work schedule to avoid Kylo and it was glaringly obvious now that whatever they’d been cultivating together, whatever deal or arrangement they had was over.

Kylo had broken it. Like he breaks everything.

After two standard weeks of being virtually dead to General Hux, Kylo finally happens upon him on the bridge. He’s backlit by the viewport, his silhouette is strong, enchanting and the sheen of his red hair is perfect, like every other line, hair, freckle, pore and fiber of his body.

“Off my bridge, Ren,” Hux orders without looking up from his holopad, “You’ve no reason to be here and I don’t want you here. Go destroy some console in a fit or something, just do it away from here.”

Kylo hadn’t even opened his mouth to speak yet.

Nervous quivers in Kylo’s chest nearly paralyze him, but he’s able to move forward despite the warnings to keep away. He's always been rather good at barreling through dangerous and ill-advised endeavors.

“I see you are choosing to stay. This is a poor choice,” Hux cautions.

Kylo only stops once he's a few feet parted from Hux.

“It’s imperative that we speak, Hux.”

“That’s _General_. And no, I’m rather sure I’ve given you enough of my audience to put your foot in your mouth with. Not that I should expect much more from you – whenever I’ve given you rope, you wrangle enough of it from me to hang yourself with. Pity that it's in the figurative sense. Now get off my bridge.”

Nevertheless, Kylo steps closer, a fearful Officer backing away and muttering something about asking for the General’s signature later once the General has cleared his business with the looming figure behind him gives him the opening he's looking for. Clearly annoyed that Kylo has put a pause in his work, Hux finally turns to face Kylo.

The attempt at anger is valiant, but fails pretty miserably. Hux looks much more like he’s in pain or terribly sad - to be fair, he's put up just about every barrier possible between himself and Kylo in the past weeks and yet, Kylo is here. Probably just rubbing salt in wounds he never meant to inflict. There’s a deep ache in Kylo’s chest for the expression on Hux's face. He thinks, for a quick moment, that he was never supposed to care about whether or not Hux’s feelings were hurt within their arrangement, but…

“Will you hear me?”

“I am beginning to doubt I have a say in the matter,” Hux replies blandly.

Removing his helmet and placing it gently on the floor, Kylo steps up to be toe-to-toe with Hux, speaking lowly so only Hux might here him. He knows that Hux prioritizes his privacy above most everything else in his life and while Kylo would have liked to respect that boundary more by having this conversation behind closed doors, he knows Hux won’t agree to it.

He has to say this on the bridge or he won’t get another opportunity to say it at all.

“You have misunderstood me.”

Based on the angry red flush that creeps up Hux's neck, this was the wrong thing to say.

“ _Oh_ , so this is _my_ fault?” Hux hisses sharply, brows knitting in frustration, “How convenient for you that all of this – this – this _Sturm und Drang_ is due to _my_ incompetence and incomprehension of your bottomless empathies and sensitivities. What a perfect time and way to ensure you can pity _yourself_ for insulting _me_!”

“I never _meant_ to insult you –"

“How _else_ was I meant to interpret that exactly, Ren? Was indicating that I have no human soul supposed to be flattering? Because I clearly do not see how –”

“Because the only other explanation is that you are an Angel!”

That, gladly, silences Hux. He stares wide-eyed at Kylo and he’s stunned enough to keep quiet for a while, so Kylo takes the opportunity to extrapolate in what he hopes is an appropriate explanation.

“You are… incandescent,” Kylo begins, swallowing roughly, finding it difficult to keep eye-contact with Hux, “Perfect. You mold to me in every way, you heal wounds in me I don’t know exist until you’ve treated them, you are measured, you are efficient, incredible, ethereal and… otherworldly.”

Catching himself gaping, Hux shuts his mouth tightly, his eyes still round and bordering on alarmed. When no sign of communication comes from Hux, Kylo sighs deeply, looking away briefly before continuing, “I thought… I thought it was the most logical explanation. It didn’t make sense to me that someone so composed of grace and infallibility was plainly human. Frankly, it _still_ doesn’t make sense, but the last thing in this galaxy I want is to drive you away and if I can never have another sliver of your light again, I will bow, here and now, to beg forgiveness. Please. Forgive me.”

The following silence is deeply unsettling for Kylo. His nerves are twisting up a storm.

“… prove to me that this is real.”

That’s not the response Kylo was expecting. He looks at Hux from under his brow and inquires, “I’m not sure what you mean. Explain?”

“I’ve… often dreamt scenarios like this,” Hux confesses, a tinge of red darkening his cheekbones, “I’m not always good at telling whether or not I’m awake and so I need you… to prove to me that this is actually happening and then I’ll give you my answer.”

Kylo has understood for some time that Hux’s complex post-traumatic stress can make the lines between reality and unreality blur, but he never expected to be in a situation like this with the man - a situation where Hux would openly ask for help. He’s chased some nightmares away before and he’s been able to lower Hux’s blood pressure at the beginnings of panic and anxiety attacks, but otherwise, he’s been kept mostly in the dark about Hux’s symptoms.

Hux is a private man. He keeps those things most personal to himself and himself alone.

Kylo nods, determined and resolves to do something he’s never done before, something Hux’s mind couldn’t replicate in unreality because it’s never happened and so he could certainly not imagine it.

He kisses Hux’s lips.

He’s kissed Hux’s neck, back, wrists, inner-thighs and even his stomach in moments of passion, but Hux never indicated that it was okay for Kylo to really _kiss him_. So, Kylo never has. Until now.

Hux intakes sharply, loudly and Kylo feels some form of panic rising in Hux. He hates it – he hates that he’s only birthed unpleasant feelings in Hux when he’s meant no harm at all and often times, he’s directly meant to incite gladness and affection. He wishes he better understood how to navigate interpersonal relationships like these.

Fisting the lapels of Hux’s greatcoat, Kylo tugs him closer, turns his head and licks into Hux’s mouth, telepathically and physically pushing past Hux’s barriers and implanting tenderness, security and easing away that unrest.

Hux’s gloved hands grip at Kylo’s upper arms – his body is stiff with shock, but his jaw is slack, allowing Kylo entry and flexibility.

_Forgive me. I've never meant to hurt you. You amaze me. I should not have tried to rationalize my feelings for you and I won't attempt to again. You are who you are._

Hux's mind is blue-screening for a moment, but then, when he's gathered some of his wits back, he inwardly replies, _and who am I? To you?_

_Someone I love. Dearly._

"Oh, _Hells_ ," Hux curses in a rushed breath against Kylo's lips, pushing away with a rising sense of panic.

Kylo runs a hand in Hux's hair, raking through the back of it to grip it properly and pull him back in. He kisses Hux deeply, crowds him, intent on being understood and unable to let the matter go. Hux gasps against him when he tugs on that hair - he knows Hux likes that. He takes advantage of Hux's parted lips then and slips into Hux's mind gently.

_Do not run from me. I care for you and all I ask is for another opportunity to treat you accordingly. Properly._

There is genuine curiosity when Hux asks him, _w_ _hat would you have done had I been a droid? If you'd been right?_

The answer, despite it's damning nature, is actually rather simple, sincere and easy to convey.

_I'd have loved you all the same._

He feels more than hears Hux make a low whine against him; he uses the hand he has in Hux's hair to tilt Hux at a new angle, kissing him romantically and daringly. Hux's panic is very slowly dissipating, being replaced by something warmer and softer. 

_Do you think you'd ever be capable of loving me back?_

_If you've not, by now, figured out that I already do, then you're denser than I give you credit for._

Kylo knows that when Hux realizes the entire bridge is watching Kylo shove his tongue down their General's throat, he'll probably earn a hard slap across the face, for reputation's sake. He can't even mind what he knows is coming, though. He thinks he may even like it a little when Hux slaps him...

He'll think about that later.

All there is now is Hux's warm, willing lips, his incredible mind and his boundless, human soul. That's all that's ever been and all there ever should be.


End file.
